August 2005. We’d left government office jobs in search of adventure. How did we end up back in government office jobs? After a few months doing that in London, we remembered why we’d left Australia and what we wanted. So on August 12th 2005, after some serious decisions, we took the train to Stansted and embarked on the journey that would ultimately deliver us to Beijing in February 2006. But that was still some way off. Our first stop: Iceland.
We soon discovered it was lucky we’d brought camping equipment and a whisperlite stove. Two burgers and fries at a rustic burger hut on the Reykjavik docks set us back over $60. Remember the days before the GFC wiped out Iceland’s banking sector and demolished its currency? We do. They were expensive! But it was a great place to travel. Read on to find out why.
I’d wanted to visit Iceland since the moment I read Jules Verne’s Journey to the Centre of the Earth:
Descend, bold traveller, into the crater of the jokul of Snæffels, which the shadow of Scartaris touches before the kalends of July, and you will attain the centre of the earth; which I have done, Arne Saknussemm.
Pursuing this goal, our hero Professor Lidenbrock arrived in Reykjavik on the coal schooner Valkyria, two weeks out of Copenhagen. Unlike him, we missed the kalends of July, but then it took us just a few hours on an Iceland Express MD-82 from London. The Reykjavik we encountered was small, but certainly larger than the two-street fishing town the Professor saw in 1863. And unlike him, we couldn’t see the volcano Snæffels, thanks to the weather. We might see it yet, though, having arrived with six weeks dedicated to exploring this curious island country.
Reykjavik
We skipped the infamous Reykjavik nightlife and met up with one of Yon’s long-lost friends from an earlier life. Jane had worked in Canberra, and had diverted from her promising career to move to the other end of the Earth – literally as far as you can go from that city – to study Icelandic. She met us at the airport bus terminal and introduced us to a different side of this quiet city, away from the infamous Runtur by night.
 Tarfala |
 Last puffins in Gjógv |
 Kungsleden |
As we sat in a “hotpot” outdoor spa-pool warmed by the island’s volcanic underbelly, we caught up, got acquainted, and planned our travels. Jane had many interesting insights into life in this rugged place, and really impressed us with the determined way she had built a brand new life, starting literally from scratch without even a word of Icelandic when she first arrived. So long ago, now, but it was a fine time.
Reykjavik is just the quirky place you’d imagine it to be. Small, cold, windswept, dark for much of the year, it breeds hardy people who like to do things a bit differently. We liked it. But we weren’t there long.
Vestmannaeyjar – the Westman Islands
These little known islands are probably most famous – if that’s the right word – outside of Iceland for the amazing birth in 1963 of the island Surtsey. It literally bubbled out of the sea during a volcanic eruption. The main island where everyone lives, called Heimaey, was wracked by an eruption in 1973 which threatened everyone with death and destruction before actually adding two square kilometers to the island’s surface area. The Westman Islands are also a renowned puffin breeding center. Sadly, instead of the thousands of puffins we were expecting (they get 8 million each summer), we saw no more than ten or fifteen.
We arrived by boat. It’s only four nautical miles from the mainland – that’s 7.4 kilometers. Still, it’s hardly the Star Ferry. The front of the ferry towered above the dock. It was obviously designed to handle some really big waves. I can get seasick on the Star Ferry (yes, it happened once, though I didn’t puke) so I looked with some trepidation at this monster. Still, Iceland was originally settled by seafaring Norsemen – Vikings – and they still made a decent proportion of their living from the sea. In the mid 70s, Icelandic sea captains in lightly-armed patrol boats deuced it up with Royal Navy frigates in the so-called Cod Wars.
So, even if the waves were big, I figured these guys could get us to the island safely enough. And so they did, but my stomach was pleased to be out of that big, rolling North Atlantic swell.
Once we were there, it was pretty clear there weren’t many puffins around. But the island had a quiet charm of its own and we set in for a few days camping and tramping around the clifftops.
Later I climbed nearly to the very top of that ridge at left. It was exceptionally windy (will I ever go hiking on a day that isn’t blowing a gale?). At the very top, I second-guessed myself and decided to descend. Looking back, I think I could have made it (I’d definitely have done it if was there again). All that remained was a short hop down to this grassy ridge, then a scramble up to the flagpole.
We walked inland, too, to check out the red-clay areas that were added to the island after the 1973 eruption.
It was time to leave after a few days. Heimaey is not a big place and without the puffins, we felt the pull of the mainland again. Rather than take the boat, we decided to fly. We booked our ticket and around the appointed time presented at the Flugfélag Vestmannaeyja airfield. “Ready?”, someone asked. We were. “You’re the only passengers, so let’s go”. The young pilot was typically Icelandic, reserved but friendly. “Please buckle your seatbelt. Flight time is six minutes”.
She pushed the throttles forward and our tiny Britten-Norman Islander ripped down the runway. It ended just short of a cliff so it seemed like we just flew straight off over the sea rather than up into the sky. We banked right and skirted the island, passing our campsite.
Five minutes and 30 seconds later we were on final approach into Bakki. It was a really smooth ride, straight over the sea and a black sand beach.
We farewelled our friendly pilot. Sadly (for her, at least) Flugfélag Vestmannaeyja went out of business in 2010 when the new ferry route between Heimaey and Bakki came into service.
We gathered ourselves and worked out how to get to Hella (pron Hett-la) – hitchhike. This is the easiest way to get around Iceland. It’s very safe and very convenient. We hadn’t waited more than a few minutes before a friendly lady in a big SUV picked us up and offered us a ride to Hella. Once there, we found a place to camp, stocked up on supplies for our imminent seven day trek, and mucked around like idiots on the really cool swing.
Back to Reykjavik – Ancient Parliament and the Blue Lagoon
Five weeks later, we were back. We’d been hiking, whale-watching, driving; we’d been wet and cold a hundred different ways. We were hungry, if not starving. But we’d had a great time – as future stories will attest.
It was mid-September and winter was already on the way. But there was time for a quick day trip round some of Reykjavik’s most famous sites. We saw Gulfoss, the mighty waterfall, and Geysir, the mighty geyser (yep, they’re all named after this one, the Grand Daddy of them all).
We dropped in at Alþingi, the original site of Iceland’s Parliament, at Þingvellir. Apart from its funny name – the Þ is pronounced “th” – this place is remarkable because it is the first location of the the world’s oldest continuous Parliament in the world. Since 930 AD Icelanders have had representation here (well, today they have a modern building in Reykjavik).
At the beginning, the assembled crowds would meet in the canyon-like rift valley formed by the Mid-Atlantic Ridge. They’d sort out all their issues, guided by the Lawspeaker who stood on the Law Rock. Later, I guess, there was plenty of mead or ale to be downed, amongst singing and dancing. Sound like something out of Lord of the Rings? (GoT didn’t exist when I first wrote this). Perhaps that’s the inspiration…
We had time for one last stop before we flew out of Iceland. The famous Blue Lagoon. Thankfully, there are big signs everywhere reminding people to shower and bathe before they get into the actual lagoon, which is somewhere between 37 and 39 degrees. On a glorious blue sky day, it was the perfect end to an amazing trip in a wonderful, mysterious and beautiful place.
Notes:
*Imperial War Museum image used under this licence.
